


Pretty Girl

by SupernaturalWinchester67



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Anxiety, F/M, Fluff and Angst, References to Depression
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-23
Updated: 2019-01-23
Packaged: 2019-10-15 06:15:15
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,541
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17523437
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SupernaturalWinchester67/pseuds/SupernaturalWinchester67
Summary: The reader has depression & anxiety and she tries to hide it from there guys but Dean finds her during a break down and helps her through it…





	Pretty Girl

“Hey,” said Dean, walking straight into your room without knocking. He plopped down on your bed, rolling onto his stomach. “Sammy’s staying with Jody tonight. Want to go do something?”

You shook your head, giving him a smile. He shrugged and hopped up.

“Alright. I’m going out for a few. Call me if you change your mind,” he said. The bunker grew quiet after a few minutes and you curled up on top of your bed in a tight ball.

Sure, you would have liked to have gone out with Dean. Dean was good like that, made you want to go out and face the world some days. Not that he knew it.

Hunters were tough. They were hard. But the Winchester boys had turned out to be a little softer than you were expecting and you were all the more happy for it. Hunting partners were nice to have, nice to talk to and take time off with.

It was nice to have friends that understood you. 

Mostly.

Tonight you wanted to stay home and have quiet. Something had been bubbling under your skin all day. It was probably good that Dean wasn’t home, you wouldn’t have to worry about him seeing.

Days like today we’re almost worse than bad ones. A bad day at least gave you a reason to feel crappy. This was just your head bringing you down for no good reason.

“Hey,” said Dean. You nearly jumped off the bed, Dean leaning against your doorframe. “I had a feeling something was going on.”

“Dean, I’m tired is all. You should go out and enjoy your drink, go have fun with some girl,” you said softly.

“You look two seconds away from crying and I got a girl I can have a whole lot of fun with right here. As soon as she tells me what’s wrong that is,” he said gently. You rolled your eyes and slumped back on the bed, pulling your blanket over yourself. The other side dipped and you felt Dean shift closer to you. He didn’t try to steal your blanket away though and let you stay hidden away.

For some reason his  _lack_  of pushing is what made the bubbling feeling finally pop.

“You’re okay,” shushed Dean quietly, rubbing his hand up and down your back as you let it out. You weren’t feeling any better though, horribly embarrassed to be crying like that in front of Dean of all people.

He never left though, he stayed right there with you until you moved your covers down.

“Okay,” he said, rubbing his hand over your head. “You’re okay. Just breathe, okay?”

“No, I’m not,” you breathed out.

“Then let’s get you there,” he said. You turned your head back, Dean looking down with nothing more than concern and softness you were sure you didn’t deserve. “I’m not going anywhere, sweetheart. Why don’t you tell me what’s wrong?”

“Nothing. Everything,” you said.

“Everything sounds like a lot to handle at once,” he said. You rolled onto your side and tucked your head against his leg, Dean moving your hair out of your face. “What’s the hardest thing?”

“I don’t ever want to get out of this bed,” you mumbled. “I want to disappear so I don’t bother anyone.”

“Oh,” said Dean. “Promise me something?”

“What?”

“Don’t disappear on me cause that would totally bother me and then I wouldn’t have you here to help me feel better,” he said. You risked a glance up. Dean smiled and wrapped his arms around you.

“I promise,” you said quietly.

“Thank you,” he said, nuzzling the top of your head.

You were quiet for a long time, Dean never saying a word or prompting you for more. He simply stayed with you until you felt yourself start to drift off.

 

You woke up warmer than usual. Blinking open your eyes and rubbing the sleep from them, you found Dean was passed out in bed next to you, his one arm still holding you close. You weren’t entirely sure why but the smell of him hit you first. It wasn’t as if you’d never slept in the motel room, not more than a few feet apart.

He smelled sweet, surprisingly pleasant in the heated air. You cocked your head. You’d turned the heat down before you crawled onto the bed last night. But the room was comfortable and you figured Dean had somehow slipped out of bed or gotten Sam to adjust it while you were sleeping.

“Morning, beautiful,” said Dean quietly, a soft and gentle smile on his pink lips. You ducked your head down, Dean inhaling deeply, his breath ghosting over your face when her released it. “Not feeling any better? Or are you embarrassed which is completely ridiculous if you are.”

“Why shouldn’t I be,” you mumbled.

“When you get hurt or sick, we give you medicine, patch you up with a bandage, right?” he asked. You hummed, Dean still smiling as he moved some hair from your face. “Do you get embarrassed about that?”

“I…no, I guess not,” you said.

“Well this is just another part of you that’s not feeling so hot right now so there’s no reason you should be embarrassed, sweetheart,” he said.

“You don’t understand,” you said.

“Then help me to,” he said.

“My head is screwed up,” you said. “Don’t say it isn’t because I damn well know it is.”

“How do you know that’ not another little lie your head is telling you to make you feel bad?” he said. You stared at him, opening your mouth. “You aren’t screwed up. You’ve never been screwed up.”

“Then why do I feel like this? Get like this?”

“Same reason Sam gets gassy when he eats too much protein. It’s how your body was built. Unfortunately, I think we got to work a little harder on the whole caring about ourselves things which sucks but I really want you to do this with me,” he said. “If you were as nice to yourself as you are to everyone else, you might even start to like yourself again.”

“Fuck,” you said, running your hands over your face. “Did I-”

“Talk in your sleep? Nah. Lucky guess,” he said lightly. He traced a finger over your cheek and under your eye, over to your nose where he gave it a soft squeeze with his palm. “Boop.”

“Dean,” you said, Dean doing it again.

“Boop,” he said. You shook your head but felt a barely there smile on your face. “Breakfast?”

“I still don’t know if I can get out of bed,” you said.

“Breakfast in bed?” he asked. “I’ll be right back.”

“Dean…” you said, stopping him halfway out of the room. “Let me help.”

“Come on,” he said, walking over to you, urging you to climb on for a piggyback ride. “You supervise. I’ll do the leg work.”

 

**Two Months Later**

At some point after that bad night and morning, Dean admitted a secret of his own to you. He had a crush on you, for quite a while actually. You nearly laughed when he told you but he was so genuine and there was a nervousness under the surface when he’d spoken. You still weren’t entirely sure why he liked you of all people but he said maybe in time you would, you were still learning to be better to yourself after all.

That’s what he liked to call it. Being better to yourself. You’d always been hard on yourself and it was part of who you were but Dean had a point. What if you treated yourself the way you treated others?

At least one day a week you really tried to get in that mindset, to be as kind and forgiving as you would have been even a stranger. Somehow it was working. Little victories Dean said.

Which is possibly why you were so disappointed in yourself. You didn’t go out with Dean that night. You’d wanted to stay home and finish your book which he was completely okay with.

But the moment you were done, you wished you had gone, could show him you weren’t just this sad mope of a homebody.

 

“Pretty girl,” said Dean a few hours later. You sat up in bed, Dean tilting his head at you. “Doing okay?”

“Not really,” you said with a shrug.

“Had a feeling when you didn’t answer my texts,” he said, pulling off his jacket and boots.

“I want to do fun things with you,” you said. Dean lifted his head up and smiled. “I want you to not see me as just the girl to fix.”

“I’ve never seen you as the girl to fix,” he said. You bit your bottom lip, Dean giving you a cute little head tilt. “Besides, bars ain’t all that fun. You want to watch a movie instead? I can order some late night grub?”

“Okay,” you said, hopping out of bed, walking over and giving him a hug.

“What’s that for?” he asked.

“Nothing. Thanks for not thinking there’s something wrong with me,” you said. He smiled, kissing you slowly until a smile formed on your own face. “I know, I know. Still learning.”

“That’s my girl.”


End file.
